Two Dark Wizards
by Obelisk of Light
Summary: [Discontinued]In the year 1940, Grindelwald's power has reached its peak and only one man can stop him. But Grindelwald has taken on an apprentice. Who is the apprentice and what is his true motive? HBP spoilers.
1. A Visit to Azkaban

**Two Dark Wizards**

Summary: This story begins in the year 1940, at a time when the Muggles are at war, and the wizards are close behind in a war of their own. Grindelwald's power has reached its peak, and only one man can stop him.

Unknown to this man, Grindelwald has taken on an apprentice. But can Grindelwald be defeated? Will Grindelwald's apprentice truly side with him, or does this mysterious learner have plans of his own?

This story is Part One of the Retribution series.

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters, elements and other things that are canon. J. K. Rowling and Warner Bros have that great pleasure.

Author's Notes: The uppercase H in the word "He" is intentional. Such emphasis with respect to Grindelwald has been laid only when his followers speak about him.

Please note that the characters and genres of the fic may change in every chapter, so you might want to put this story in your favourites or bookmark it. Just a suggestion. Review responses for this chapter will be added in the next chapter.

Chapter One

A Visit to Azkaban

The crescent moon was rising on a cold summer night of July 1940. A dark fortress; situated on a small, far-flung island in the North Sea; was revealed in all its might.

This fortress was none other than the dreaded wizard prison of Azkaban, where the most hardened criminals of Britain (magical ones that is) were locked up. The dread that the name of Azkaban caused in the heart of the average wizard on the street was due to its wardens, the hooded Dementors. These soul-sucking fiends thrived in dark places and loved to feast on happy emotions. A weak human soul would be a perfect prey for them; if they used their deadliest weapon (the Dementors' kiss), the victim would exist with no sense of anything. They would be worse than dead.

As the Dementors were patrolling around the large gate and were keeping watch from its many towers, a tall, cloaked figure appeared out of nowhere.

The Dementors did not seem perturbed. Apparently, this person had managed to secure permission to visit one of the prisoners (unauthorised entry or exit was next to impossible).

This man's name was Albus Dumbledore. He was a tall wizard with long, sweeping auburn hair and beard. He was walking fast, with his cloak sweeping behind him. His bright blue eyes usually twinkled – but they were not twinkling tonight, for he had come here for something, which was very serious. He had come to meet a highly dangerous Dark wizard, Mark Yaxley.

Mark Yaxley was not _the_ ultimate Dark wizard of that time, but he was one of Grindelwald's most trusted servants. Yaxley had been sentenced to life imprisonment in Azkaban for killing many innocent witches and wizards. It was ten years … ten long years since Yaxley had been brought to this place.

Dumbledore walked quietly towards the gates, clutching an old _Daily Prophet _newspaper, which was in fact an authorised Portkey. Tonight, he was wearing long midnight blue robes under a black travelling cloak. His eyes took in the sinister iron gates and the cold walls of stone. Two towers stood on either side of the gate. This gate was flanked by two Dementors, who (very strangely) backed away slightly as Dumbledore came near the gate. Perhaps it was due to a strange power that appeared to radiate from him. Yet, Dumbledore could sense the horrible, rotting smell and hear their terrible breath, rattling and creepy. There was an ever-present chill in the air around this hostile place.

"Number sixty-three," Dumbledore said, referring to Mark Yaxley's cell.

The gates opened. He glanced at the many graves of wizards who had expired within the walls of the gaol. He was directed towards Yaxley's cell. He walked on, keeping a good distance from the Dementor that was leading him, noticing that there was very little light along the corridors (it was no great wonder, of course).

After walking for about fifteen minutes, he came to a locked wooden door that had bars welded into it at the top where a rectangular hole was made, so that the solitary prisoner within could look outside into the corridor once in a while (if the very presence of the Dementors had not driven him completely mad, that is). The Dementor approached the door. It had a key in its rotting, hideous hand. Using the key, the Dementor unlocked the door.

Dumbledore moved inside and gazed at a thin, wasted-looking man who was sitting down on the floor, staring blankly at the morose ceiling. As Dumbledore came in, he stood up, tense and glaring, his pale, haggard face rigid, yet terrified. His hands had balled themselves into fists. He shook his unruly, straggly blond hair out of his black eyes.

"What do you want? Who are you?" he asked. His voice was high-pitched; there was combined anger and fear in it.

"I am Albus Dumbledore," said Dumbledore.

A look of recognition showed in Yaxley's face for a moment, then he sneered, "And what does a filthy, common half-blood want of _me_? I will not answer your questions, not as long as I remain loyal to my Dark Master, the greatest wizard the world has ever seen!" He drew a deep breath, still glaring. Azkaban had not failed to unhinge him.

Dumbledore looked straight into his black eyes. "The memory of your last meeting with your master," he said coolly.

"OH, REALLY!" he roared. "AND WHAT MAKES YOU THINK THAT I, HIS MOST LOYAL SERVANT, WILL BETRAY THE DARK MASTER?"

"The 'Dark Master', you call him," Dumbledore said, unfazed by Yaxley's behaviour. "It is only a fancy title that he has given to himself."

"HOW DARE YOU!" bellowed Yaxley. "YOU WILL PAY FOR THIS!"

"Calm down, Yaxley," said Dumbledore, forcefully this time. "Consider your position. You are unarmed and imprisoned for life. Even though you firmly deny it, I know very well that you are afraid."

Apparently, Yaxley knew that it was best not to yell any more. When he spoke this time, it was not anger; but fear that was dominant in his voice.

"You – you want to know what He said to me the last time we met … but if I give you the memory … He will kill me, the instant I disobey Him!"

"He may be powerful now, but he will fall, sooner or later; and not rise again – like many others before him," said Dumbledore calmly, even though he felt a spasm of anger.

"Empty threat, Dumbledore," said Yaxley, some colour returning to his unnaturally pale face. "You speak as though you intend to finish the Dark Master off. He is immortal." At this, Yaxley breathed hard. Perhaps he was getting too sentimental to see reason to hand over the memory.

"Consider your position," repeated Dumbledore. "You may be loyal to Grindelwald (Yaxley's face twitched in both anger and fear), but there is _nothing you can do to help your master_." He put an emphasis on the last eight words. Yaxley had registered that, for he had heard Dumbledore's voice rise.

Dumbledore looked at the wasted man before him straight in the eye. For a moment, he seemed to see a strange, vast room within them. Yaxley finally seemed to realize that he had lost the war of words.

"It appears that I have no choice," he whispered at last. "But it is not you who shall triumph, Dumbledore."

Dumbledore approached him, wand in one hand and a small crystal phial (whose stopper was open) in another. An onlooker might have thought that Dumbledore was about to attack Yaxley, but that was certainly not the case.

Dumbledore placed his wand to Yaxley's temple and said, "I need the memory." Yaxley's eyes were subdued as Dumbledore pulled his wand away slightly a few seconds later. A shining, silvery strand was clinging on to the wand. It coiled for what seemed like a long time until it finally broke free from the prisoner's temple.

Dumbledore placed the extracted memory carefully in the phial and closed it. Within ten minutes, he had left Azkaban prison and handed over the Portkey to the Ministry of Magic. He Disapparated to Hogsmeade after handing over the Portkey and completing the necessary formalities.

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A second later, Dumbledore had appeared in the High Street at Hogsmeade. The magical lamps on the street were lit and most shops were closed, for it was late in the night. A great, famous castle was clearly visible from where Dumbledore was standing. Hogwarts was the perfect place to gain more information about the dreaded Dark wizard's obscure past. That was the reason Dumbledore was staying at the school for most part of the summer. If Dumbledore's suspicions were confirmed, then it would be a long, hard search with little hope.

_I cannot abandon all hope_, Dumbledore thought, before lighting his wand and moving along the road towards the boar-flanked gates of Hogwarts, which were currently locked. Only a few windows of the castle were lit. Dumbledore extinguished the faintly glowing light of his wand and magically opened the gate.

He walked along the driveway, glancing at the gamekeeper's hut. A sliver of light seemed to escape through the curtained windows. Dumbledore walked on towards the great, oak double doors of the castle and unlocked them.

The Entrance Hall was extremely dark. However, there was a faint light emanating from the adjoining Great Hall, whose doors were ajar.

Dumbledore stepped into the Great Hall. He noticed that five candles were hovering over the Headmaster's high-backed, throne-like chair present at the teachers' table. Armando Dippet was seated in that chair, bending over something. On hearing Dumbledore's footsteps, he looked up.

Dumbledore walked to his chair and said, "Hello, Headmaster."

"Ah, hello, Albus," said Professor Dippet, turning towards Dumbledore. He was an old wizard who looked rather weak. A few strands of his silvery-white hair seemed to glow in the candlelight. Dippet looked suspiciously at Dumbledore.

"Only half an hour ago, I found out that you had left the castle. Did you go to meet Nicolas Flamel, by any chance?" asked Dippet.

"Yes," said Dumbledore, little more quickly than he had intended. It was not as though Armando Dippet could not be trusted; but at the moment, Dumbledore wished to remain as discreet as possible. Apparently, that part of the plan had not worked as he had hoped.

Dumbledore saw that he had a piece of parchment and a quill. It seemed that he was doing his work in the Great Hall.

_Very strange_, thought Dumbledore.

"How did you find out, Armando?"

"I was patrolling near the Astronomy Tower. The Bloody Baron happened to tell me this."

A sudden image of the Bloody Baron haunting the tallest tower of Hogwarts sprung in Dumbledore's mind. Pushing this thought aside, Dumbledore said, "Goodnight, Headmaster," and walked towards his office.

To be continued …

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**Beta Comments:**

**Overall, I think that this is a fantastic story. It's original, and I cannot wait to read the rest of it (even if I am only editing it). I think this could have great potential as a heavily reviewed story if you keep up with it and are passionate about it. The only thing that I noticed that needed a little work on is word choice and flow. Some sentences are a bit hard to read and choppy. It's not overly detracting from the story, but being an avid BETA reader I notice this like this. You are very good at imagery of events in your story, which is good. It always makes the story more enjoyable to read when the author knows where they're going with it. Keep up the good work, and I hope to receive the second chapter soon. I wish you the best of luck. **


	2. Memories

**Chapter Two**

**Memories**

Author's Notes: Certain pronouns have been capitalised with reference to Grindelwald. These capitalisations are intentional. Such capitalisations have been made only when his followers speak about him, and when Grindelwald speaks about himself.

Bexley and Chalk Wood are real places located within London. Budleigh Babberton is a fictional village, according to the Harry Potter Lexicon.

My apologies for the delay in writing the chapter and putting it up. (end of author's notes)

Five minutes later, Dumbledore had stepped inside his office and locked the door. He moved towards a Pensieve that lay on his modest mahogany desk. There were not many papers on it, but that was bound to change soon.

Dumbledore took out the crystal phial from the inside of his robes and emptied it into the shallow stone basin that he had borrowed from Nicolas Flamel. He looked closely at it and saw ten black-robed people in a dark room. He bent over the Pensieve and fell headfirst into it.

He landed on his feet a few seconds later, to find himself in a room made of stone. It was small and thickly curtained. Two black curtains were opened very slightly. Very few rays of light found their way into the room through this gap.

Mark Yaxley was standing a few feet away from the present Albus Dumbledore. There were two jet-black doors in front of him. Yaxley was gazing at the one to his right, his face showing a mixture of fear and anticipation. He looked much younger; one could almost say that he was in the prime of his youth.

Dumbledore looked around the room. Eight men and two women were present in the room, including Mark Yaxley. Six men were looking at Yaxley, while the other three people were engaged in a whispered conversation that Dumbledore could not hear. There was another door right behind the third wizard from the left.

A door behind Dumbledore opened with a little click. He turned around to see a tall, black-robed figure that was hooded and cloaked. The hood was so low that the face was hidden. Dumbledore thought that he had seen the hooded figure once before, but he could not recall exactly when. Yaxley was looking at this mysterious person as Dumbledore moved closer to the former.

A quiet male voice said from behind the hood, "The Dark Master awaits you, Yaxley."

Dumbledore walked in quickly, even before Yaxley entered the room right behind him. Last of all, the hooded man stepped in, locking the black door behind him.

This room was larger than the previous one, with only one small top-window. There was a thick black curtain drawn over it. Two torches were burning on either sides of the door.

The blond-haired wizard, Yaxley, was now gazing at a man whose name made the average witch or wizard's blood run cold.

Grindelwald stood up. He was a tall wizard whose long, coarse black hair fell to his shoulders. He had a thin black moustache. His icy, grey eyes did not betray any emotion as he looked at the pale wizard. The hooded man walked towards Grindelwald and stood beside his now-empty chair, as though he was a servant awaiting his master's command.

"Yaxley," said Grindelwald, in a voice laced with authority. "You have a job to do, for an unwanted person has chosen to visit the village nearby. This person, unfortunately, happens to be highly important."

Grindelwald was saying this in a slight hurry. It occurred to Dumbledore that Grindelwald might not have trusted Yaxley completely.

"Master, am I to understand that You are talking about the German Minister for Magic?"

"Your guess is correct, Yaxley. My well-placed allies have informed Me that Garin Kaiser is planning to visit Magische Festung along with his Aurors in three days time. This is the right time to put an end to his life. As you know well, Yaxley, he is hard-pressed to find our location. The Fidelius Charm may be an efficacious protection; but I do not want his entourage to come too close to our hideout. A trusted minion of Mine is currently at Magische Festung. You are to join the other assassin soon and eliminate Kaiser," said Grindelwald.

"I will do as You command, Master. I hope You will forgive me for mentioning this, but there is every possibility that he will be accompanied by an unusually large number of Aurors -" Yaxley stopped suddenly, seeing Grindelwald's narrowed eyes.

"Mark Yaxley," said Grindelwald. His voice was low and scary. "Do you dare to doubt the success of My plans?"

"Not at all, Master, not at all –"

Grindelwald's thin black moustache quivered in anger. "Remember, Yaxley," he said clearly, "that I am the _only_ Dark wizard whose immortality is too well-preserved for any accursed filthy Mudblood to think of challenging Me! My plans _never_ fail. You may leave now, Yaxley, and do not return until your task is finished."

_Yaxley did not know then that he would never return to Grindelwald's hideout_, thought Dumbledore, feeling satisfied.

Mark Yaxley turned and left the room after opening the door. The light from the torches was extinguished as the scene dissolved into blackness around Dumbledore, who knew it was time to leave the Pensieve.

A second later, he was soaring weightlessly through the blackness and had landed on his feet in front of his desk. As he took his seat at the desk, Dumbledore pointed his wand at the fireplace and thought, _Incendio_. A roaring fire came to life at once. He lowered his wand and placed it on his desk, deep in thought.

He recalled what Grindelwald had said in a brief flash of rage. _Remember, Yaxley, that I am the only Dark wizard whose immortality is too well preserved – _

The truth hit him with the force of a Blasting Curse. A part of his _soul_ was well preserved by an ancient and most evil form of protection – a Horcrux. That was the reason why he was immortal! At last, Dumbledore's suspicions were confirmed beyond any shadow of doubt.

A bigger problem reared its head. Where would Grindelwald conceal a part of his soul? What sort of object would he use for the purpose? Did any of Grindelwald's followers know about his Horcrux?

Dumbledore thought that Grindelwald's mysterious, hooded accomplice might know about his secret. Even Yaxley might know about it, but he was in no position to help Grindelwald or hinder Dumbledore.

It occurred to Dumbledore that Grindelwald's hideout might be somewhere near Magische Festung. Magische Festung – Magical Fortress in German - was one of two all-magical towns located in Germany. Ten years ago, on the fifteenth of July, Mark Yaxley and another Dark wizard had tried to assassinate the German Minister for Magic, Garin Kaiser. Luckily for Kaiser, the duo did not succeed. Kaiser's Auror entourage managed to capture Yaxley. However, the other Dark wizard escaped. Yaxley was a wanted wizard for many murders in Britain. Therefore, he was deported to Britain and convicted by the Wizengamot.

Dumbledore suddenly realised that he was nodding off. He looked at an elegant grandfather clock beside the roaring fireplace. The clock had just chimed, jerking him out of his stupor. It was one o'clock in the morning. He decided that it was time to rest.

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_Dumbledore and a friend were surrounded by five black-robed wizards. One of them was hooded, such that the face was concealed completely. Undoubtedly, they were Grindelwald's followers. Dumbledore shot a surreptitious glance to his right. A blond-haired wizard of average height stood next to Dumbledore and had his wand at the ready._

"_Alexander, be ready for my signal," whispered Dumbledore._

_The five Dark wizards were closing on Dumbledore and Alexander. This place had Anti-Disapparation Jinxes cast all over it. If they were to escape safe and sound, it was now or never._

"_Now!" shouted Dumbledore. Both wizards cast powerful spells at random. In a matter of seconds, three Dark wizards were on the ground. Before either Dumbledore or Alexander could begin to run, the hooded person yelled, "Avada Kedavra!" _

_The jet of green light hit the blond-haired wizard in the chest. Dumbledore gasped in horror, and ran towards – _

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Dumbledore woke up from his sleep all of a sudden. He was sweating all over. He knew at once that this dream was no ordinary dream; it was a memory. The incident had taken place three years ago. Of course, Dumbledore had managed to escape unhurt, but Alexander James had not been so lucky.

He thought about the dream, and another realisation dawned upon him. The hooded wizard who had killed Alexander was probably the same man who had appeared in Yaxley's memory. Dumbledore wondered whether Yaxley knew this mysterious hooded wizard's identity.

The first rays of sunlight had begun to make their way into the room through a gap in the curtains. He decided to go to the library when he was ready. Perhaps he would come across more clues there.

Half an hour later, Dumbledore was looking at a book called _Terrible Wizards Who Patronise the Dark Arts_. A brief entry on Grindelwald was found in the last page. Of course, Grindelwald was referred to as "The One Who Shall Never Be Named" in the entire book. Dumbledore found it mildly amusing how many wizards were afraid of speaking his name out loud (as if they would be struck by the Killing Curse as soon as they spoke his true name). The article read:

_The One Who Shall Never Be Named_

_The One Who Shall Never Be Named is the most vicious Dark wizard of our time. His followers always refer to him as the Dark Master, and state that he is immortal; and therefore the most powerful wizard on earth. While his power cannot be doubted, the authenticity of his immortality remains an unanswered question for most of us. _

_It is rumoured that the One Who Shall Never Be Named has a dwelling in Britain. However, Ministry officials continue to state that the One Who Shall Never Be Named is currently in hiding in his country of origin (Germany). If recent _Daily Prophet _reports are to be believed, the German Minister for Magic, Garin Kaiser, is not fully co-operative._

Dumbledore paused to think, _Political rhetoric_. The German Ministry was working as hard as they could to capture Grindelwald; however, most Ministries of Magic across the world had to focus more on keeping their existence a secret from Muggle society: the Muggle Second World War had begun, and was showing no signs of ending. He looked down at the book, and continued to read.

_The One Who Shall Never Be Named is responsible for many horrendous crimes involving both wizards and Muggles. Ministries all over the world are on the lookout for him. His followers are known to be many in number –_

Dumbledore glanced at the rest of the essay. There was no information that was of further use for Dumbledore. He closed the book. His thoughts went to Nicolas Flamel. Flamel was Dumbledore's partner in alchemy, but in recent times, they had resorted to discussing about Grindelwald very often. Dumbledore searched his memory for important bits of information regarding Grindelwald's hideout. Nicolas Flamel had his ways of gathering information.

Flamel's austere face came into focus as Dumbledore dug deep into his memory. _"It appears that Grindelwald's hideout in Britain is near the outskirts of London," he was saying. "For some reason, he has abandoned it now."_

"_Where exactly is it?" asked Dumbledore._

"_In a village near Chalk Wood, a suburb of Bexley. However, I cannot recall the name of the village properly. It was something like Budleigh … Budleigh …" muttered Flamel. _

"_Budleigh Babberton?" asked Dumbledore. Oddly enough, Dumbledore had been there twice before, paying visits to two Muggle-born children, in order to explain about Hogwarts._

"_Exactly," said Flamel. "If what some of my other trusted friends have told me is correct, his hideout is somewhere near the church."_

Dumbledore came out of his reverie. Nicolas Flamel had spoken to Dumbledore about Grindelwald's whereabouts six months ago. If Flamel's information was correct (it probably was), Dumbledore knew now exactly where Grindelwald's Horcrux was. The question remained – what was it? And how was it to be destroyed? How was it protected?

Even though the search was now a lot easier than he had expected, it required more planning and discretion. But Dumbledore was not someone who was content to sit back and allow Grindelwald to gain more power. It would be easier to destroy the Horcrux if Grindelwald was sufficiently detached from the part of his soul that was outside his body. Dumbledore hoped that it would be so.

**Beta Comments:**

**I like this chapter. It explains a lot, and it's very well written. At first, I didn't understand why you were writing this as though Nicolas Flamel was still alive, but I went back, reread your first chapter, and remembered this story was set in 1940. Good luck with having this chapter accepted, though there shouldn't be any problems. It was fantastic!**

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Author's notes: There will be a delay in posting chapter three, as the family's going to get a new computer. EXTREMELY Sorry for the delay.

Review Responses:

InkandPaper: Thank you for the review! You're right, Grindelwald's Horcrux is an important part of my Book 7 predictions. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	3. The Mission

A/N: Sorry for the long time that I took to get this chapter BETA'd (I had to look for another editor). If anyone is interested in reading my other fics, I have three other one-shots up. But please take their individual ratings and warnings into account.

Also note the change in my Pen Name.

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**Chapter Three**

**The Mission**

Two days later, Dumbledore was prepared. At eleven o'clock in the night, he was preparing to set out from his office, making sure that he was invisible. This mission of his had to remain a secret. He put out the crackling fire in his office and opened the door slowly.

Dumbledore stepped outside into the corridor, which was dark save for a few rays of moonlight. He descended the steps as quietly as he could. The only person he came across was the Grey Lady, the Ravenclaw ghost. The tall, astute woman was floating serenely along the first floor corridor, oblivious to Dumbledore's presence or movements.

After some time, Dumbledore had reached the great oak double doors of the castle. He unlocked them and stepped out. After securing them again, Dumbledore walked to the gates. In a matter of minutes, he had crossed the boundaries of Hogwarts. Once more, he made himself visible.

Dumbledore's mind was focused on his destination. He turned on his heel and Disapparated.

A second later, he was in a deserted village square. An old World War I memorial stood beside him. He noticed that the streetlights were dimmed on purpose; a great war was raging in the Muggle world. Dumbledore was surprised that some Muggles were actually staying behind, considering the village's close proximity to London.

Dumbledore looked carefully in the direction of a couple of roads; he knew that the church would catch his eye almost at once. He was right, of course. He took out his little silver Put-Outer and extinguished what little light that was emitted by the streetlamps. Lighting his wand with a non-verbal _Lumos, _he walked quickly and quietly towards the church gates.

Dumbledore opened the gates with the _Alohomora_ incantation. After stepping into the yard and locking the gate again behind him, he paused for a moment to think. He had to go a bit more slowly and _sense_ the magic around him. Horcruxes were not easy to detect, because only a part of the soul was preserved within one. Hypothetically, if a wizard was to split his soul more number of times, his Horcruxes would be harder to detect. So far, no one had attempted to make more than one Horcrux.

Dumbledore sensed the magic around him. Beyond the boundaries of the church (and within the confines of the village), only fourteen souls, including his own, were present. _Grindelwald's Horcrux seems to be well-protected,_ thought Dumbledore worriedly.

Dumbledore opened the double-doors of the church, and stepped inside. He decided to search for the Horcrux physically, and use magic only when he was sure that the Horcrux was very near.

Dumbledore searched under the benches and at the altar as stealthily as he could, but could find nothing suspicious. Nicolas Flamel had said that his hideout could be somewhere _near_ the church. He exited the building through the back door and walked into the adjacent graveyard. He knew that he had to use magic to locate anything suspicious here.

The graveyard was not very large, and was dark save for a few dimmed lights at a few locations. Dumbledore put the lights out as he had done before, lit the tip of his wand and walked from grave to grave.

He was sensing the magic around each grave as he walked along. Around twenty minutes later, he sensed something suspicious around a grave, which had a marble angel standing close to it. He raised his want to read the inscription on the gravestone:

_Vilhelm Septimus Grendel_

_1845-1914_

_A great father and husband_

Dumbledore recognised the surname "Grendel" at once. The Grendels were a pure-blood German family who preferred to be secretive despite having utter disregard for non-purebloods, Muggles and Squibs. Most German wizards were not very supportive of such families. Ironically, one of their family members had been buried at a Muggle graveyard.

Dumbledore had a hunch that this grave would lead him further. He examined every inch of the grave carefully, and saw something after many minutes. It was something that looked somewhat out of place; and yet made sense in some mysterious way.

It was an ornate red "G" that was barely visible to the eye. "_Does_ _G stand for Grindelwald?_ _Or Grendel? Or does it stand for both?"_ said Dumbledore in a whisper, so focused on his mission that he was unaware he had spoken out loud.

He pointed his wand at the little "G" emblem and murmured something. The gravestone as well as some of the earth around it sank out of sight. The grave itself was untouched.

Dumbledore raised his lit wand and looked at the flight of stairs that led underground, presumably to Grindelwald's hideout. As he walked down the first few steps; the hole in the ground was shut of its own accord with an ominous thud. Dumbledore looked back warily, and noticed that the red "G" was present here, too, but with a difference: it was much larger than the one on the gravestone.

Dumbledore returned his concentration to the flight of steps that lay ahead of him; and descended down the stairs. He was very sure that Grindelwald would not be careless enough to stow his Horcrux right here: surely, it had to be somewhere deeper within.

After what seemed like a long time, Dumbledore had reached the end of the stairs. He looked around cautiously, for the silence seemed deathly and ominous.

Dumbledore's first thought was that Grindelwald's sanctuary could have been as vast as the Department of Mysteries. Yet another hurdle had shown up in Dumbledore's path. His attention wavered for a moment, heightening a significant sense of mixed uncertainty and fear.

Collecting his thoughts, Dumbledore looked around him more carefully this time. The place did not seem as large as he had thought. The underground dwelling was made of stone. There was no sign of Grindelwald's emblem. Instead, there were three black doors in front of him. Two torch brackets separated the door, and the torches within them had burned out a long time ago. Dumbledore was reminded irresistibly of Grindelwald's other sanctuary in Germany.

Dumbledore's instinct told him that it was best to use very little magic. He walked quietly to the first door and opened it. To his surprise, it was unlocked.

He searched the dark room within, and did not find anything suspicious, not even when he risked sensing the presence of a fragment of soul.

He returned to the hall and entered the second room. The second room was small and dark. It proved to be as useless as the first one for Dumbledore. He had tried sensing for the Horcrux in the last room before entering it. But he could not do so. That could mean only one thing: Grindelwald's Horcrux was in the last room; the room that Dumbledore had not entered.

Dumbledore tried the _Alohomora_ incantation on the door. It did not work. He tried another spell, and the door swung open with an ominous creak.

Dumbledore stepped in cautiously, his wand held high above his head. This room was much larger than the others. Torch brackets were present on either sides of the door. The torches, however, were not lit. The only light in the room was the one emerging from the tip of Dumbledore's wand.

A long table with many chairs was present in the middle of the room. A thick layer of dust was present on the table, chairs and the floor. At one end of the table, a high-backed, ornate chair was present. Presumably, it was Grindelwald's chair.

For some reason, Dumbledore focused his attention on the chair. Something about it intrigued him. He walked towards the chair quickly and quietly, and looked at the chair more closely.

The chair appeared to be made of mahogany. Its cushions were entirely black. A small, red-coloured and ornate "G" was marked on one of its legs: Grindelwald's emblem. He took a risk and sensed the magic around it. It was a long time before he finally sensed what he had been looking for all this time: the Horcrux. It seemed to be a very small fragment of the Dark Master's soul.

To be continued ...

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**Review responses:**

**Lilith:** Thank you for your review and compliments. But I cannot answer your questions, I don't want to spoil the plot for anyone!

**InkandPaper: **Thank you for your review and suggestions.Grindelwald and Voldemort do have a few things in common, don't they? Also, it's not easy for me to change my writing style, but I will try to improve.


	4. Opposite Motives

**A/N:** From this chapter onwards, review responses will not be published, as the guidelines are not very clear whether they're allowed or not. Replies shall be sent by private message.

I've also made major changes to this chapter. Apparently, Riddle begins his Horcrux creation process a year after he kills his parents. I've also included a few sentences to explain the fact that Riddle used Morfin's wand to kill his father and grandparents. He's using Side-Along Apparition with Schwartz as he's not learnt it yet (I've changed that as well). For convenience's sake, they're meeting at a different place that's much closer to the orphanage.

I'm not sure when I'll update next, as Chapter 5 is not proving very easy to write. It's not exactly a writer's block that I'm facing: it's a bit sluggish and I want to make sure that I don't make blunders like I've made in the earlier versions this chapter. I'm sorry for any inconvenience.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter or any associated trademarks. They are owned by JKR, Warner Bros, Bloomsbury et. al. However, I do own the plot and anything else that I've made up.

**Chapter Four**

**Opposite Motives**

Dumbledore bent down and looked attentively at Grindelwald's emblem, which was marked on one of the legs of his chair. Slowly and cautiously, he reached out and tried to feel the insignia. However, he could not touch it, no matter how much force he applied. He raised his wand, pointed it at the red mark and thought, _Reducto_!

The spell was reflected straight back at him. Dumbledore dodged it just in time. He looked at the sign again, deep in thought. _There has to be an anomaly in the magical shield. I must find it._

He focused his attention on the shield. He had to find a weakness in it, but he used obscure spells instead of using wandless magic to locate the anomaly. In a matter of minutes, he found it. But he did not raise his wand immediately.

The mission had been easy this far … a little too easy. What if this was an ingenious trap designed to fool the few who might have guessed the reason for Grindelwald's eternal life?

Dumbledore stood back, braced himself for the worst, and pointed his wand at what he deemed to be the anomaly in the magical shield.

This time, the Reductor Curse worked perfectly. The chair had been reduced to mere sawdust. But something flew out of the chair due to the profound force of the curse.

The object landed a few feet away from Dumbledore with a scraping noise. Dumbledore raised his wand and proceeded towards the strange thing; stopping mere inches away from it.

It was a circular brooch, which was marked with the familiar red "G". Dumbledore thought that there might be another magical shield surrounding it. In spite of knowing the risk, he pointed his wand at it and thought, '_Reducto.'_

To Dumbledore's utter surprise, the trinket was reduced to dust. But there seemed to be an eerie, blackish aura surrounding the dust. Dumbledore stepped back cautiously. A few seconds later, the remains of the brooch vanished, to be replaced by black smoke that was rising fast. The smoke hovered in the air and took the shape of a face that Dumbledore had seen in a memory.

Grindelwald's smoky form seemed to gaze at Dumbledore for a moment before fading altogether. He took it as a sign that he had destroyed Grindelwald's only Horcrux.

Dumbledore turned back, and walked towards the exit of the dwelling. However, as he was walking, new thoughts raised their heads in his mind.

_What if Grindelwald had come to know that his Horcrux had been destroyed?_

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Nearly two years after the destruction of the Dark Master's Horcrux, a tall, handsome and dark haired boy was walking away stealthily from the Riddle House in Little Hangleton late one night. He was carrying an unlit lantern in one hand.

_It was an easy job, _thought the young man, as he took a quick look around the garden of the house. His eyes lingered on the gardener's living quarters for a moment, to make sure that the gardener was inside. In a matter of minutes, he was outside the gates of the Riddle House.

_It had to be done, _thought Riddle,_ that fool of a Muggle and his parents had to be killed. _He felt absolutely no regret or remorse about his deeds. However, he had unfinished business to do. He had to pay another visit to Morfin Gaunt. He lit the lantern and walked towards Morfin's place.

After walking for a long time, Riddle reached a group of trees that had a pathway. He walked down the path to a clearing in which a ruined cottage was located. He opened the door, which had a dead snake nailed to it, without bothering to knock. He took his wand out of a pocket of his shabby Muggle overcoat and held the lamp above his head.

The sole occupant of this house was Morfin Gaunt, Riddle's maternal uncle. Morfin was a deranged man with wild, filthy hair and beard that obscured his face. Currently, he was slumped on the floor, unconscious, thanks to Riddle. He pointed his wand at Morfin, focused on the result, and murmured, "_Obliviate._"

Riddle knew that his spell had worked perfectly, for the oddly peaceful expression on Morfin's face did not change. His eyes fell on an unsightly gold ring with a large, black stone set in it. He placed the lantern on the floor; took the ring from Morfin's finger and scrutinised it carefully. There was a coat of arms engraved on the stone. Riddle recognised the crest instantly. It belonged to the Peverell family. The Peverells were an old English wizarding family who were rumoured to have had had close ties with Salazar Slytherin himself. As a gesture of friendship, the Peverells had forged this ring by magical means and given it to the Gaunts for safekeeping. However, the last descendant of the Peverells had passed away many centuries ago.

Riddle's thoughts returned to the present. He looked at Morfin, knowing that he would come around soon. He took Morfin's wand out of one of the pockets (he had used it to kill the Muggles living in the Riddle house), placed the wand beside his uncle's slumped form and left the house quickly and quietly, wearing the ring as he did so.

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A few days after the completion of his sixth year at Hogwarts (and nearly a year after he had killed his relatives) Riddle was walking swiftly towards the entrance of a pub that was located on Charing Cross Road in London. He had to meet someone far away from the Muggle orphanage that he stayed at. Wizards frequented that particular pub, and it was unlikely that he would meet any Hogwarts student this early. As for the Muggles on the road, he could not avoid that particular inconvenience. He spotted a black-robed figure with a long, billowing cloak as he was approaching the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron pub. The cloaked person seemed to be waiting for him, oblivious to the suspicious stares of passers-by. As Riddle came closer, he could see that it was a face he recognised.

The cloaked wizard was a little shorter than Riddle. His dirty blond hair was showing sure signs of greying. The brown eyes had dark circles under them and his forehead was slightly lined. Riddle was sure that Ulbrecht Schwartz was in his middle ages (by wizard standards).

"Hello, Riddle," said Schwartz. "It's been a long time since we have met."

Schwartz was right. It had been nearly six months since they had last met. Riddle was going to pay a visit to Grindelwald. This was not the first time that he had been to see him, of course. It was deceptively easy.

It had started at the beginning of Riddle's fifth year. Through a few of his Slytherin friends, he had met Schwartz, who was a follower of Grindelwald. On a few Hogsmeade weekends, he would meet Schwartz, who would then Apparate both of them to Germany. However, the risks were great. Riddle would have been in deep trouble if any others had got wind of his "jaunts", so to speak. These trips to Germany had been to one village: Magische Festung. From there on, they had to Apparate to Grindelwald's dwelling. Apparently, it had been protected by the Fidelius Charm. Schwartz had handed him a paper revealing the location of the Dark Master's hideout.

Persuading Grindelwald was easy, too. Even though Grindelwald had seemed to be cautious at first, he had appeared to be impressed when Riddle had shown his abilities of Dark Magic.

"What are you thinking, Riddle?" asked Schwartz. Riddle snapped out of his reverie and said,

"Nothing." The swarm of Muggles had now decreased considerably along with the irritating stares.

"You know the routine," said Schwartz, scrutinizing Riddle more carefully and to Riddle's slight discomfiture, noticed the ring on his finger.

"Where did you get the ring? I haven't seen you wearing it before," said Schwartz.

"I bought it, of course. It is not a Muggle artefact, Schwartz, if that is what you are thinking," said Riddle.

Schwartz appeared to be convinced.

"Follow me," whispered Schwartz. Both men walked down the street for fifteen minutes, and turned into a much narrower and darker road that was deserted. There were a few Muggle apartments, whose occupants were minding their own business.

They stopped walking. Schwartz looked around, and nodded to Riddle. He gripped the older wizard's forearm and the other wizard turned. The next instant, both men had vanished from the spot without a trace.

Riddle felt the familiar sense of being compressed from all sides. In a few seconds, the pressure had disappeared. He and Schwartz were standing in front of an old-fashioned, large building that was located in a broad street. Riddle could see many other shops and a few houses in the same row. Unlike in most Muggle towns, the lamps in Magische Festung were burning brightly.

Riddle and Schwartz stepped into The Weiss Inn. The landlord, Eberhard Weiss, greeted the men in German.

"What brings you here, Ulbrecht?" asked Weiss.

"I took a day's leave from my job at Berlin," said Schwartz.

Riddle took a seat at an old, weathered wooden table near the two men. He glanced at Schwartz and Weiss, who were still talking to each other. Riddle was looking at Weiss, who he had met only six months ago.

Eberhard Weiss was a young wizard in his mid-thirties. His black hair was rough and slightly untidy. He wore a set of magnificent green robes that was plain save for the word "Weiss" that was present on the left side of his chest beneath an elegant family crest. His eyes were black and at the moment, there seemed to be a gleam of happiness within them. Weiss gave a loud sneeze, covering his sharp nose with a handkerchief.

"Excuse me," muttered Weiss. He caught Riddle staring at him. "Hello," he said politely, "If I am correct, is your name Riddle?"

"Yes," said Riddle, rising from his seat and shaking Weiss's outstretched hand.

"I think I've seen you once before," he said. "All the way from England, I presume?"

Riddle replied in the affirmative, and said, "If you don't mind, Mr Weiss, both of us are tired. We would like some –"

"Of course," said Weiss. He looked slightly disappointed for a moment, and called, "Juno!"

Instantly, a house-elf appeared in front of Weiss. Juno the elf had large black eyes that were gazing at Weiss in respect. She wore a tea towel that was stamped with the Weiss family crest. As she bowed deeply, her large, bat-like ears seemed to quiver slightly.

"Take Mr Schwartz's and young Mr. Riddle's luggage to room numbers seventeen and eighteen," said Weiss.

"Of course, Mr Weiss," said the female house-elf in a high-pitched voice.

Schwartz handed over a travelling bag to the house elf. Riddle hadn't brought spare clothes or anything of the sort.

"Your baggage, Mr Riddle?" asked Weiss.

No sooner did Riddle start to reply than there was a loud _crack_ heard outside the inn.

A huge, strong-looking blond man stepped into the inn, carrying a bag. He looked around for a moment, and spotted Riddle. "Hey, Riddle," he called out.

Riddle walked towards the newcomer rather quickly. He was torn between relief and exasperation at the blond teenager. Once he was close to him, he whispered, "I want to have a word with you. We'll talk outside."

"Okay," he said in a low voice. Riddle turned to the others. Weiss was looking puzzled, Schwartz's eyebrows were raised slightly in suspicion, and the elf was looking curiously at them.

"Gentlemen, excuse us," he said, and stepped out of the inn with Yaxley. They stood a few paces away from the door. Riddle turned to Yaxley.

"Herbert Yaxley, why were you so tactless?" asked Riddle.

"I followed your orders, Riddle. You'd asked me to bring your baggage from that Muggle orphanage. Why do you stay there, anyway?" asked Yaxley.

"I'm planning to move out shortly," said Riddle. "Did that Cole woman ask you anything?"

"I just told her that I was your friend. I managed to … persuade her a bit. Anyway, what're you doing here?"

"Is that any of your business?" said Riddle coldly, hiding his surprise at Yaxley thinking correctly for once. Herbert Yaxley was nothing but a thuggish bully, looking for better ways of perfecting his art. That was the only reason Riddle had brought the seventh-year Slytherin under his control. At age nineteen, Yaxley was the oldest student currently studying at Hogwarts, because he had to do his fifth and sixth years twice. When Yaxley passed his Apparition test on his first attempt, nearly everyone was stunned. Riddle knew that even if Yaxley asked a few questions, the lamest answers (or retorts) would be enough to persuade him.

"You may leave," Riddle added, taking his bag from Yaxley, who turned and Disapparated.

As Riddle stepped into the inn, he saw that Schwartz and Weiss were engaged in casual conversation. He knew that Schwartz was not foolish enough to drop any hint about his true allegiance; for he, Schwartz, was the Dark wizard who had attempted to assassinate Garin Kaiser, the German Minister for Magic; along with Mark Yaxley. Mark Yaxley had been caught red-handed, but Schwartz had escaped. Fortunately, no one (except Riddle, the followers of Grindelwald and the Dark Master himself) knew about the identity of Mark Yaxley's accomplice. Mark Yaxley had died a week ago, spending his last days in Azkaban in complete mental turmoil.

Weiss turned, and spotted Riddle. "Well, then," he said. "I believe that you wanted dinner, Mr Riddle."

"Certainly," said Riddle. He gave his bag to the elf, who bowed and Disapparated.

Fifteen minutes later, Riddle and Schwartz were ready to go to their rooms. Weiss gave them their magical keys. Riddle was given a key that was ornately engraved with the number eighteen.

"The rooms are located on the first floor. Shall I send someone to guide you?" said Weiss.

"No, thank you, Eberhard," said Schwartz. "I think I can find my way on my own."

"I don't think I need an _elf_ to guide me, thank you, Mr Weiss," said Riddle, more contemptuously than he had intended.

Weiss's expression seemed to change momentarily to suspicion. Then he bade them goodnight rather cheerfully.

_Was that a false cheer in his voice? _A few people had said that Weiss appeared to be a shrewd person, albeit he did not show it. Riddle felt the same way.

In ten minutes, Riddle found his room. It was rather comfortable. He sat up in his bed for some time after removing his jacket and placing his wand on the headboard. He had changed into his pyjamas and drawn the covers up to his waist. He was looking intently at a small, black diary that was from a Muggle shop in London, judging by the address on the back cover.

Riddle flipped idly through the blank diary. Persuading Mrs Cole had not been easy, because she had been sharp, as always. It had taken many clever words to convince her that he wanted to go and explore places other than the boring Muggle village that the inmates of the orphanage visited every summer. After a debate lasting around half-an-hour, the woman had given him a week's time, but Riddle had told her that he would probably return in less than seven days. He had been partly surprised that his persuasion did not require the use of a Memory Charm.

Riddle reached out to take his wand. He pointed it towards the door and the lock clicked into place, then he turned it towards the diary. Before doing anything else, he listened carefully for any sound outside the room. There was perfect silence. Normally, it would have seemed slightly unnerving, but it was exactly what Riddle wanted.

Riddle's wand was pointed at the diary. He mustered his powers of concentration and thought, _Arca Memorie_.

A beam of white light connected the tip of Riddle's wand and the diary for a second. There was a blinding flash of white light, and then the diary was looking perfectly normal. The beam of white light had also vanished without a trace. The single lamp in the room was dim.

Riddle gave a satisfied smile, and opened a particular page in the diary. There was nothing written on the page, save for a few printed words: _January 1, 1943._

He placed his wand to his temple, closing his eyes and focused on the events of the later part of his fifth year. Numerous memories flooded his brain; images were rushing into his mind, staying for one brief moment before giving way to another …

_The Chamber of Secrets was finally open … Riddle was speaking to the Basilisk that had hibernated for centuries … many teenagers had been Petrified, with ghastly expressions on their faces … Riddle was speaking to Armando Dippet … Hagrid was running towards Riddle, trying to disarm him … a girl was lying dead in a bathroom with her eyes wide open as if in shock; her ghost floating right above her body … Riddle was placing a trunk in a compartment on the school train …_

Riddle opened his eyes and withdrew his wand from his temple. A coiled, silvery-white substance was clinging to the tip of the wand. He placed the tip of his wand to the opened page of the diary, such that the long memory was touching the paper. In an instant, the page had absorbed the memory, leaving no traces behind.

Riddle smiled again. His plan was coming along perfectly. There was still one last step remaining, and that was to be done the next day.

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The next day, Tom Riddle woke up long before sunrise. When he was ready, Riddle walked towards Ulbrecht Schwartz's room and gave a soft knock. For a few seconds, all was silent. Then, sounds could be heard from the room: the wizard within was grumbling. A moment later, the door opened to reveal a frowning Schwartz.

"A little too over-enthusiastic, eh, Riddle?" he said, clearly displeased that he had been disturbed from his sleep. He smoothed his dressing gown and took out a large watch from his pocket.

"We seem to be a little early," continued Schwartz. "Give me some time, Riddle. Then we shall proceed." He closed the door softly. Riddle heard Schwartz give a yawn.

Riddle made sure that he had his wand and diary in his robe pocket before walking down to the dining area.

Apparently, the two Dark wizards were not the only ones awake at this hour. The landlord, Weiss was behind the bar, wearing a different set of robes, which also had the Weiss crest on them.

Weiss gave Riddle a practiced smile, despite his slightly dishevelled appearance. "Good morning, Mr Riddle. I presume you've had a good night's sleep?"

"Yes, Mr Weiss," replied Riddle mechanically.

"If I may enquire, what brings you downstairs at this hour?"

"I have an important business to attend, along with Mr Schwartz," Riddle replied.

"I thought that Ulbrecht was on leave?"

"You see, Mr Weiss –" began Riddle, but he stopped when he heard footsteps coming down the stairs rather rapidly.

Schwartz ran into the lobby, slightly out of breath. "Good morning, Tom," he said. Riddle observed the sudden use of his first name.

"Good Morning, Ulbrecht!" said Weiss. "I see you seem to be in a hurry, so I think both of you need a quick breakfast –"

"No, thank you, Eberhard; I think a shot of Ogden's Old Firewhisky will be enough for me," said Schwartz.

Riddle, however, opted for a small breakfast as Schwartz drank his Firewhisky. Weiss was telling Schwartz that German Firewhiskies were better than English ones, but Schwartz did not seem to be interested in such trivial talks.

In five minutes, Riddle and Schwartz had stepped out of the inn after exchanging goodbyes with the innkeeper.

A few steps away from the inn, the duo stopped abruptly, and turned. A moment later, both of them had Disapparated, making a characteristic popping sound.

To be continued …


	5. An Evil Deed

Author's notes: I'm really sorry for the delay in posting this chapter. I've changed a few things in the previous chapter in order to rectify major blunders. Please try to re-read Chapter Four if you haven't done that already.

I hope you enjoy this installment. I know it's much shorter than the previous one. To be entirely honest, I'm not comfortable with writing long chapters. I'm not sure when I can upload the next chapter, due to my busy schedule. Let me assure you that I have not abandoned the story.

**Chapter Five**

**An Evil Deed**

A second later, Riddle and Schwartz had recovered from the usual side effects of Apparition. Magische Festung was a few miles behind them. They were standing in front of an ancient stone dwelling that had a pair of majestic yew trees on either side. The main door was black and strangely unmarked, save for a small hole in the door. As the hideout was protected by the Fidelius Charm, not all wizards could see this large edifice.

Riddle stepped forward and knocked on the door. For a minute, there was perfect silence, with the exception of the chirrup of a bird that heralded the rise of the sun. But an average wizard would never consider anything around this structure as cheerful, if he were to know the very existence or purpose of this place.

Even though he had not seen anyone peering through the hole, Riddle could hear a few locks being opened. He presumed that the view hole was enchanted as well. The door opened to reveal a mysterious tall, black-robed and hooded person whom Riddle recognised by sight alone.

They stepped into the long hall. Two black, unadorned sofas were facing each other on both sides of a table, along with a few plush armchairs. All the furniture in the room was black. Behind Riddle, Schwartz and the hooded figure were speaking in low, incomprehensible whispers. Riddle took a seat and glanced at them. A few minutes later, the hooded person straightened up.

Schwartz sat on one of the sofas facing Riddle. "The Dark Master is currently occupied. When His right-hand person calls you, you can enter."

The hooded figure was walking towards another black door. In fact, there were three more set at various positions, apart from the main entrance itself. Like the rest of the dwelling, even this room had sinister black drapes for window curtains. The chandelier candles affixed to the ceiling were the only source of light in this chamber. Riddle, however, was not keen on observing the room, as this was not the first time he had come to this place. He was slightly surprised at what Schwartz had just said.

"'Right-hand person'?" repeated Riddle. "I thought they were – an accomplice." Riddle amended so quickly that Schwartz did not seem to notice Riddle's correction in his choice of words.

"A frequent misconception. I'm afraid I cannot say more on the matter."

Riddle's curiosity had not diminished, even though he did not press Schwartz for more information about the enigmatic person hidden under the hood.

Twenty minutes later, Riddle's sidelong gaze was fixed upon the door through which Grindelwald's right-hand person had exited. Meanwhile, a witch who had arrived five minutes ago was engaged in a whispered conversation with Schwartz. Once or twice, she glanced at Riddle, perhaps wondering what such a young wizard was doing in so secretive a place. Riddle did not seem to heed her inquisitive glimpses.

The door that Riddle was staring at opened all of a sudden. The hooded figure was standing in the frame. They nodded in Riddle's direction. He rose from his seat and walked towards them. They turned and marched into a much smaller room, with Riddle close behind.

The unknown person stopped at yet another black door and knocked thrice.

"Enter," said an icy voice.

The cloaked individual pushed open the door rather unceremoniously. Grindelwald was seated upon his chair as if he were a king. He was rotating his wand with his long fingers in a rather casual manner. Even as Riddle bowed, Grindelwald's right-hand person walked towards the Dark Master's chair and conjured a lower one right beside it and seated himself.

"It is long since you have been here, Riddle. Few of My minions are worthier than yourself," spoke Grindelwald.

_Minion?_ Riddle was bothered a little by Grindelwald's nouns, but he quickly pushed the thought into the back of his mind. He replied, "Master, You know the reason why I am here."

Grindelwald would have tortured him for his apparent insolence if he was someone else. When the Dark Master spoke, his tone was one of caution.

"Indeed. But I do not tutor My … apprentices early on. I ask them to prove their worth and do something in return for Me whenever possible. I do have My ways of ensuring that they remain loyal."

"I understand," said Riddle, determined to keep his face neutral.

Finally, Grindelwald seemed to be convinced of Riddle's loyalties. He moved close to Riddle and began to instruct him.

* * *

When he knew what to do, Riddle pointed his wand at the black diary that now lay open on the floor. According to the Dark Master, it would be painful; but Riddle did not care. He whispered, "_Creatio Horcrux._" 

In an instant, a sharp, unbearable pain surged through Riddle's body. He almost fell to his knees, but managed to remain on his feet. A black orb escaped from the end of his wand and hit the book. Due to the force of the spell, the book closed; fortunately, the diary had not been damaged. As he had planned, the diary did not show any external signs of being charmed as a memory container.

No one spoke for quite some time. The only sounds in the room were coming from the crackling flames within the torches, which were positioned on either sides of the black wooden door. After many minutes, the Dark Master walked towards Riddle.

"Well done," murmured Grindelwald. "As you know, I need to be assured of your loyalty. While I shall not exercise painful means in your case, I cannot exempt you completely. Grendel?"

Grindelwald turned to face his hooded assistant, who had promptly stood up upon being addressed. As the black-robed, unknown person hurried to the Dark master's side, their cloak shook slightly. Grindelwald seemed to make eye contact with the stranger called Grendel, who whipped out his wand. Riddle had the feeling that some sort of Dark spell was about to be performed.

"Are you ready to make the Conditional Unbreakable Vow, Riddle?" asked Grindelwald.

Riddle's sudden suspicion had proven to be right. He had read about the Conditional Unbreakable Vow at the Hogwarts library's Restricted Section. This sparsely-used variant of the Unbreakable Vow could decide the manner of death of the person who gave the Vow, if he were to break it. Riddle knew that he had no choice. However, he did have a plan that could not only ensure his immortality, but also thwart the Vow.

"Of course." He nodded and proceeded to clasp Grindelwald's right hand. The hooded person held their wand very close to Riddle and the Dark Master's joined hands.

"Tom Riddle," began Grindelwald. Riddle winced inwardly; he hated that name. "Do you agree not to repeat what you have learned to another soul?"

"Yes," said Riddle, even as a thin, yet bright ribbon of fire shot out of Grendel's wand and surrounded the joined hands.

"Do you agree to return if your presence is required?"

"Yes," spoke Riddle again. The colour of the flame momentarily changed to a deep shade of purple and reverted back to yellow.

"If you break your Vow, Tom Riddle, you shall face death when you least expect it."

This time, Grindelwald did not ask for Riddle's assent. The chain of fire glowed blood red for a whole minute, and vanished in its entirety, leaving behind no trace of burning.

* * *

A day later, Tom Marvolo Riddle had returned to London. However, he was going to stay for one night at one of the cheaper rooms of The Leaky Cauldron before returning to the orphanage. He had thought of something else to do. 

Standing in front of an ordinary brick wall in the early night, when most patrons had left the pub, Riddle tapped a few bricks on the wall in a seemingly random fashion. A Muggle's jaw would have dropped at what happened next, but Riddle was not surprised when the wall slowly parted to reveal the narrow street of Diagon Alley.

The warm summer wind swept Riddle's shabby cloak behind him as he walked casually down the nearly deserted street. The shop owners seemed not to notice him as they closed their establishments for the day.

As he approached a sharp turn near the wizarding bank Gringotts at the end of Diagon Alley, he glanced around furtively. No one was looking in his direction, so he walked quickly into the dark, gloomy Knockturn Alley.

When Riddle walked past a shop named Borgin and Burkes, which was well known for its impressive collection of Dark artefacts, someone bumped into him, accidentally dropping a few things. Riddle took a hasty step backwards.

The other wizard got on his feet and smoothed his robes. His eyes were fully hidden under a thatch of black hair. His deep blue robes were regal and grand, indicating that he was well off.

"Do watch where you're going, young man," admonished the short man, whose name was Caractacus Burke. "And what are you doing here all alone at this hour?" he asked, after taking a closer look at Riddle.

"I'm sorry, sir," said Riddle abruptly, picking up the letters and scrolls that the old man had dropped and handing them over to him.

"What is your name?" the older wizard enquired suspiciously while taking his belongings.

"Tom Riddle."

"I've heard that name before, one of my sons is in Slytherin; he might've mentioned it. You're attending Hogwarts, aren't you? My son speaks very highly of you, indeed …"

Riddle was surprised at the sudden change in the other man's behaviour. In the meantime, the other man had entered into Borgin and Burkes, only to lock the door behind him. Riddle did not know his name.

Riddle glanced around him more thoroughly this time and walked towards a not-so-well-known bookshop located at the very end of Knockturn Alley. He was going there for doing some rather interesting research that was closely related with the knowledge he had learned from Grindelwald.

To be continued …


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